


And In That Moment I Swear We Were Infinite

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, ha, he works in a record store, hipster!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica is wearing a new coat, she has this whole all-white ironic virginity thing going on even though she’s the biggest slut from Slutville. Derek tells her it looks groovy with the paint on the cuffs and she laughs at him. Then three days later she tells Boyd that his new Buddy Holly glasses are groovy. Soon enough the record store they work at has a sign in the window proclaiming ,<i>'Groovy tunes for you at groovier low prices!'</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And In That Moment I Swear We Were Infinite

Brown slush splashes over Derek’s copy of _American Gods_ , it slowly dribbles down the pages until it hits his wrists. He drops the book on impulse but nevertheless, the drink slides down the sleeves of his peacoat to settles along the faux-leather cuff on his wrist.

Derek slowly looks up and, lo and behold, there is some gawky teen dabbing at the coffee drink soaking in the pages of his book, but he’s doing far more hurt than help.

“Stop that,” he snaps, the boy freezes with big tawny baby sheep eyes zeroed in on Derek. 

“I’m so sorry,” the boy blurts. Derek’s face remains impassive. “I’ll just get some more napkins-”

“Just go.”

“Oh. Oh, of course. Sorry, again,” the boy murmurs. He turns to walk away, but turns back a few steps later. “Groovy scarf.”

Derek sits in silence for a few moments, then leaves as well. He leaves his chai on the table, along with his now-sodden book.

***

The encounter in the coffee shop would not be a problem, if not for the fact that Derek is now unable to refrain from saying ‘groovy’.

Erica is wearing a new coat; she has this whole all-white, ironic virginity thing going on even though she’s the biggest slut from Slutville. Derek tells her it looks groovy with the paint on the cuffs and she laughs at him. Then three days later, she tells Boyd that his new Buddy Holly glasses are groovy. Soon enough, the record store they work at has a sign in the window proclaiming , _Groovy tunes for you at groovier low prices!_. 

“It’s not even relevant,” Derek bitches to his boss/uncle, Peter. The older man settles a hand on his shoulder.

Peter is this weird, outdated DJ stuck in the eighties, and the pearl of wisdom he offers Derek is, “Relevancy is all subjective.”

Derek slouches away without replying to straighten some albums on the shelves. The bell above the door tinkles, but he ignores it: Erica usually gets the customers, he lurks around lifting the heavy stuff. 

“Oh, hey, hello, scarf guy,” he hears from somewhere by his elbow.

“Hello,” Derek says testily and then he frowns. “Are you here to spill coffee on the things I sell now?”

“No,” the boy laughs. “I was drawn in by the sign. I have this dumb habit of picking up my dad’s slang but I didn’t realize other people did, too.”

“Derek only brought it in here three days ago,” Erica butts in. Derek scowls at her as she flutters past them.

“Oh? The root lies with you?” The boy grins in a way Derek can only describe as saucy. His scowl deepens when the boy lays a playful hand on his arm. “I wonder where you picked that up.”

“Derek? Derek, are you flirting?” Jackson calls from across the room and every staff’s head swivels to find him as well as their regulars. 

“Derek?” The kid he licks his -wow, intense- red lips and bats his fucking eyelashes. “Mine is Stiles.”

“Mmm,” Derek hums then arches his eyebrows at _Stiles_. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, I don’t really believe you,” Stiles says smugly. Derek realizes belatedly that he has leaned into the smaller boy’s space. 

Derek makes an annoyed noise and leans back, Stiles follows him and somehow takes Derek’s phone from his pocket. He taps in his number and sends himself a text before Derek can get the phone back.

“Excuse me,” he snaps and Stiles smiles up at him winningly. 

“I like picnics. And chess,” he shares and Derek doubts his intelligence. “I’ll text you tomorrow. We can have lunch at the chess tables in the park. You bring the drinks, I’ll bring the sandwiches.”

“I’m not going,” Derek says but the boy is already opening the door. “You look twelve! I’ll be arrested!”

“See you tomorrow!” Stiles calls back. Derek frowns again.

“I can pick up drinks for you!” Isaac exclaims, knocking over a magazine stack in his enthusiasm. 

“I am not going.” 

“You have to!” Erica hisses after she whacks him on the arm with a CD case.

“Leave me alone, harpy.” Derek rubs a hand over his face. “I’m not going, and that is final.”

***

He ends up going.

He really was not going to show up. He was going to calmly go about his day, ignoring the helpful little reminders Stiles is texting him, and not go waste time at a park with some clumsy _boy_.

However, as previously stated, Erica is a harpy. So, she sends Derek picking up a (fake)shipment of records from a thrift store beside the park. Around the time he notices Stiles, something in his satchel clinks loudly, he opens the flap and, of course, inside there are two glass bottles of tea. 

He is going to kill all of his coworkers. Stiles waves at him wildly from the tables; Derek turns to walk away, but he knows that somewhere, his mother wants to smack his knuckles with a spoon and she’s not sure why. “Fuck,” he hisses brusquely and a little old lady squints her eyes meaningfully at him as she walks past.

He walks quickly to the table and sets out both of the bottles. “I am afraid I can’t stay.”

“Okay, that’s one path we can proceed upon, but I have two tuna and bacon sandwiches with our names on them,” Stiles offers and his smile is very sweet. 

“I’m not hungry,” Derek blurts and Stiles' darling little face falls and Derek finds that he has sat down. “But, thank you.”

“No, I can go and get you something else, it’s just right over there,” Stiles babbles; he’s already getting up, but Derek stills him with a hand on his elbow. 

“Sit down.”

So, Stiles sits. And they both sit there for hours. Eventually Derek unwraps his weird sounding sandwich and, hey, guess what, it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. When he makes a noise of extreme pleasure Stiles goes bright red and grins at him and Derek is pretty sure his heart catches. 

“Oh my god, are you even human?” Derek snaps and Stiles just laughs and touches their fingertips together. 

“Like you can talk. I’m, like, eighty percent sure that you fell out of my Playgirl magazine and into my life.”

Derek barks out a laugh around his mouthful of sandwich, “You still have nudie mags? What, is this, the seventies?”

“Shut up!”

***

They finally part ways at dusk and Derek hasn’t gone ten feet when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

_had a gr8 time lets do it_

Derek turns around abruptly and Stiles has his back to him and it look’s like he’s texting furiously to someone. He doesn’t notice Derek as he strides up to him until pins him to the nearest tree.

“Whoa, wha-- mmpf!”

Derek kisses him, holds his hands up above his head and licks into his mouth like there’s salvation hidden there.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles groans and Derek hikes one of his legs up so it’s wrapped around Derek’s waist and goes back in for another kiss. “We’re in broad daylight--uhn--we’re going to get arrested or something!” 

Derek sucks on his neck, bites his lower lips until it’s red and puffy. “It’s not daylight for much longer and getting arrested _is_ on my bucket list.” He nips a bruise into the soft skin under Stiles’ jaw, just to watch the red blossom against his pale skin. 

“I think my dad patrols this park--”

“Your dad is a cop?” Derek pulls back a little, “You are legal, right?”

“Define legal?” 

“Am I going to be to jail for statutory rape if I take you home and fuck you stupid?” Derek growls and presses him harder against the tree.

“Oh, goddamnit. Yes.” Stiles grabs the collar of Derek’s cardigan and pulls him in to kiss him, “But I want you to. I really, really want you to."

“As much as I hate being controlled by the general social norms, I do not want to have sexual deviant stuck on my record.” Derek gropes Stiles' butt fondly, settles his head on Stiles’ shoulder, and sighs. “Call me when you’re legal.”

“We could just be friends?”

“Yeah,” Derek nods. “We could do that.”

 _Thirty-Six Minutes Later_ :

“Oh, fuck me, fuck me,come on,” Stiles whines and Derek rips his stupid orange day-glo briefs down off his hips.

**Author's Note:**

> Derek doesn't see the follow up text that reads ' _*do it again_ ' until afterwards.
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [1984yearsforameliapond](http://www.1984yearsforameliapond.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
